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Updated: May 16, 2025
The children had fallen asleep on the bearskin rug. Mrs. Zane and Betty had heard the Colonel's voice, and sat with white faces, waiting, waiting for they knew not what. A familiar, light-moccasined tread sounded on the path, a tall figure loomed up from the darkness; it came up the path, passed up the steps, and crossed the threshold. "Wetzel!" exclaimed Col. Zane and Capt. Boggs.
She had a guilty conscience that no strange thrills could silence. It would be fun to see him, to watch him, to let him wait for her, to fool him. Like an Indian, she chose the soft pine-needle mats to tread upon, and her light-moccasined feet left no trace.
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